


nice legs, daisy dukes, makes a man go

by ruuhroh



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hockey, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:59:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23882638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ruuhroh/pseuds/ruuhroh
Summary: Mike is one of the last to leave, giving Richie a generous pat on the back before he hikes up his bag and strolls out of the locker room, leaving Richie and Eddie behind, and most importantly, alone.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 7
Kudos: 145





	nice legs, daisy dukes, makes a man go

**Author's Note:**

> I had written this ages ago when I first started my social media AU for Hockey and finally bit the bullet and commissioned my lovely and talented friend Groovy for some [beautiful art](https://twitter.com/becomegroovy/status/1254148189394882560).

Mike is one of the last to leave, giving Richie a generous pat on the back before he hikes up his bag and strolls out of the locker room, leaving Richie and Eddie behind, and most importantly, alone. 

Richie is still sitting on the bench in front of the lockers, shirtless but still in the lower half of his goalie gear, looking frankly kind of ridiculous but he knows Eddie digs the look regardless. Eddie’s dressed down to his compression shorts minus the cup (and Richie  _ knows _ he isn’t wearing anything underneath) and just his sweater, quickly padding across the locker room to peer out towards the door, presumably to make sure no one is close by. 

  
He must deem it safe as he’s spinning back around, stalking back towards Richie with a dangerous smile, stopping close enough, and hiking a leg up the bench between Richie’s splayed thighs. One of Richie’s hands immediately goes to grasp at Eddie’s ankle, thumb rubbing over the knob of bone, just  _ touching _ ; other hand cupping at his thigh. 

The tiny gasp that escapes Eddie’s lips is enough to do a stronger man in, and Richie is nothing but absolutely fucking weak for Eddie Kaspbrak. 

He’s suddenly lightheaded with how quickly Eddie leans in and uses both hands to cup his jaw, tilting his head to pull him into a searing kiss. The kiss itself is sloppy, both of them still buzzing with adrenaline from practice, Richie can feel the tremor in Eddie’s hands, knows his own are slightly shaking as one moves from his thigh to ghost up the jersey and along Eddie’s ribcage. 

Eddie is pushing himself away again, knocking Richie’s hand away from its ventures up his shirt, pulling his foot away to then promptly plop himself straight into Richie’s lap, leaning back in to kiss him again. 

“Fuck, you should have let me at least get my pads off, asshole,” Richie grinds out as Eddie shifts his mouth to drag his teeth alongside Richie’s jawline, Eddie starts to say something in response but it trails off into a soft moan as Richie retaliates by grabbing two handfuls of Eddie’s ass through the compression shorts. 

They should be fucking illegal if anything, especially with Eddie wearing them, pert ass and thick thighs, walking around the fucking locker room with just his fucking jersey on. God, how the fuck had Eddie  _ not  _ realized Richie was trying to eyefuck him every goddamn time they were in the locker room together?   
  
Eddie shifts in his lap again, hissing as he pulls away from Richie’s jaw, looking down angrily at the goalie leg pads still on. “Why the fuck were you still wearing them in the first place?” he asks, reaching down to unbuckle them. They take a little longer than usual, mainly because it’s Eddie unlacing them and because Richie keeps alternatively squeezing at his ass or leaning in to suck a bruise into whatever exposed skin lies open between the deep V of his jersey, purposefully distracting him. “Asshole,” Eddie bites out, shoving at Richie’s shoulder before pulling away to unbuckle them more efficiently. 

Richie can’t help but laugh at the determined look Eddie gives the pads, laughing less once they’re off and Eddie resumes straddling his lap, grinding down. He’s glad he at  _ least _ had the foresight to pull the cup out of his jock before Mike had left them alone. 

His fingers drift between Eddie’s cheeks, pressing where he thinks Eddie’s hole is, against the compression shorts with two fingers, knowing it’s doing  _ something _ because of the soft little gasp Eddie gives. “Yeah?” Richie asks, just to be obnoxious, Eddie doesn't even respond, just nods his head quickly. 

They don’t have lube or like — _anything_ , because most of the time they just spit into their palms and hastily jerk each other off, but Richie has a need to just _touch_ Eddie in that hidden space. He pulls his hand away, licking at two fingers before wiggling his hand between the compression shorts to rub at the rim of Eddie’s hole. He’s still soft and pliant there from last night when Richie had tucked three fingers in before fingerfucking him while Eddie had fucked his mouth. But he’s not looking to sink his fingers into that tight heat, not just with spit, instead, he just presses his fingers against him and drags them around the rim. 

“Fuck, Richie,” Eddie pants, dropping his head against Richie’s shoulder, shivering as he reaches down to grind the palm of his hand against his dick. It’s too hard to try and wrangle his dick out with Richie already pulling the waistband tighter with his hand inside, so instead he grinds against Richie’s leg and his hand, stuck between wanting to press into the friction both ways. Richie knocks his hand away and replaces it with his own, watching Eddie reverently, the flex of his stomach as he rocks between both of Richie’s hands. 

Eddie quickly digs his fingers into Richie’s curls, tugging, pulling his head up and tilting it back, hips grinding harder as he rocks closer. Richie can tell that Eddie’s close, considering that they’ve fucked nearly every single day since they finally confessed, can already tell how Eddie’s small gasps and breathy moans are pitching up in volume. Then Eddie shudders and fists Richie’s hair so hard that Richie is sure he’s pulled out strands— and Eddie goes boneless. 

“There you go, baby,” Richie says softly, kissing at Eddie’s exposed skin as he extracts his hand from the compression shorts, giving Eddie’s confined dick a little pat just to see the smaller man jerk. 

“M’blowya.” Eddie mumbles against Richie’s jaw. 

“What?” 

“Blow you, fuckhead.” 

Richie snickers and presses another kiss against his skin before giving Eddie’s ass a smack. “Better hurry then, before the janitors or whoever comes in.” 

Eddie finally shuffles back and glares, or tries to, at Richie. His face is flushed pink, still glowing from the orgasm, the glare falling flat. After a moment Eddie grabs at the front of Richie’s hockey shorts, pulling out his cock, quickly leaning down to lick at the tip before taking him further into his mouth. 

“This is going to be over embarrassingly fast,” Richie warns, reaching out to rub his thumb over the stretch of Eddie’s lips. Sure enough, Eddie swallows maybe twice and Richie shudders out his orgasm, letting out a pitiful whine as he does. 

Wiping at his mouth, Eddie chuckles lowly, “wow, you weren’t kidding, you lasted maybe 15 seconds.” 

“Four pumps, one big load, just for you baby.” 

Eddie rolls his eyes but gives Richie a fond grin, leaning in to kiss him softly before standing. “Alright, go fucking get dressed, I’m hungry and want dinner.” 

“But Eds, you just had soup.” 

“I swear to fucking GOD, Rich.” 

“Okay, okay I see, soup ain’t enough.” 

He can’t help but laugh when Eddie groans and flips him off, looking fondly annoyed as he finally pulls off his hockey sweater, exposing skin pulled taut over sinewy muscles. Richie lets himself look for a moment longer before tucking himself back into his pants, sighing happily before finally moving up from the bench to start stripping to get into regular casual clothing.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> come holler at me on twitter [@ruuhroh](https://twitter.com/ruuhroh) and on tumblr [@jillsandwichs](https://jillsandwichs.tumblr.com/)


End file.
